25-Women at War

(Written as narrated by a 60-year old in a dramatic and blood-curdling war movie)

In the beginning, it was just a hope. A hope to understand the nuances of a science that eluded many a SCMHRDian in their quest for business knowledge. The name of this amazing science was ‘Business Policy’ and the task that one had to accomplish to gain this higher knowledge was to delve through pages and pages of case studies in a bound-copy that had yet to be used by many for its actual purpose.

In the kingdom of the ‘Ladies Hostel B’, some masterminds were already at work. Neha P, Neha M and the inmates of particular room in the third floor had conspired to achieve this task with a combined force of five minds. But alas, cases like ‘Chemical Additives’ which have supernatural powers of hypnotizing the normal human being to sleep require the combined force of 25(12 active, 10 inactive, 3 asleep) minds. Hence at around 8 30pm on the pitch-black night of the 23rd of October, 25 warriors, all female, descended on the war-preparation zone called ‘Room 214’. A room that had previously been designed to accomodate three beings had now magically expanded to fit 25 laughing, giggling, sleeping, fighting and texting warriors.

“Roomus Expandus!”

Once, the initial greetings had been done with, the important ice-breaking session commenced. As with all female warriors, the topic of debate was the magical experience called ‘Shopping’. Treasures from a land called Greater kailash in New Delhi were shared and debated.

Then, suddenly, a green shroud eclipsed the warriors and the latest menace that hypnotized 14 warriors in the army emerged. It was called ‘Farmville’. Use the magical search mirror called ‘Google’ to learn about it else visit the menace-creating place called ‘Facebook’. And conversations became serious.

Warrior 3: O great army, Kindly answer this troubling question of mine. If a pink cow gives strawberry milk, a brown cow gives chocolate milk, what can I expect from the elephant gifted to me by my neighbour?

(This is the point where the author wishes she could vaporize people just by looking at them. Anyways, the story continues.)

Chief Warrior Neha P lets out a war cry every 15 minutes.

“Concentrato idiotso”

But the army has moved on to the next menace. Called ‘Camera Phones’.

A thousand clicks resonate as every warrior struggles to take a picture of the army while the other warriors scream more war cries like ‘Let me check my hair’ and ‘I am wearing such boring clothes!’. Anyways, after considerable efforts, the army finally manages to start on its task and begins reading the first case.

The case involves a distressed soul called Phiroz Poonawalla who is in trouble owing to a bad decision by his father which involved picking a not-so-lucrative business.

Warrior Polo, who had been lost in dreamland, so far decides to spill a few pearls of wisdom.

“Daddy, daddy uncool” she sings.

Efforts are made instantly to shut the ears of all the other warriors, for like the cry of the wailing banshee, any assocation with a disastrous bollywood flick called ‘Daddy cool’ can damage the human neurons for ages.

The army goes into frantic debate and there is pandemonium as 25 voices struggle at the same time to make the same point.

Neha P, wise warrior that she is, devises a plan that could not have been even thought by Julius Caesar to command an unruly army.

“Silenco! Whoever speaks after this is a donkey!”

There is pin drop silence as no one in the army wants to be one. But sign language is not an effective way to discuss cases and there is friendly banter again. Neha P starts devising other techniques.

Meanwhile, warriors Shruti R, Dipti B and Priti R have discovered an age-old tradition to keep themselves busy. They have starte tattooing each other with designs and letterings that are partly offensive. If they keep doing it successfully, it could very well be a good business and they could leave the damned army.

At this point, the author who has lost herself in smirking at the various antics of the army is suddenly hit by the first missile of the enemy. A soft-toy in the shape of a baby-elephant has hit her face. The author is bewildered and looks around for help. But the other warriors are busy tattooing, sleeping or gossiping about Imran Khan that they cannot spare their precious time. Then the author spots the sender of the missile. It is a missed aim from fellow warrior PP.

PP deserves special mention because despite her attempts to get into ‘Hinjewadi Post Office Cricket Team’, she is yet to make a decent throw. The missile aimed at Warrior Priti has hit an innocent being who is now plotting revenge.

Meanwhile Warrior Priti R, best known for watching enlightening movies like ‘Dil Bole Hadippa’ and ‘DDLJ; four times a day is trying to make the toy elephant dance and give a voice-over to it. The author wonders where does one get the magic blessing of patience to bear such atrocities.

After some cases and gossip, half of the army has already succumbed to the hypnotizing effects of the booklet and have started snoring. The army is soon disbanded to prevent the disease from taking epidemic proportions.

But one of the most hard-working warriors aka Shefali finally proved her mettle. After making the army say ‘Cheese’ for a light year, she finally got her camera working. But by then ‘ cheese’ had metamorphised into ‘zzzzzzzz’ and a sleeping army had been photographed for posterity.

The moral of the story, my fellas, is simple. 25 women in a room. There will definitely be learning but there will be a zillion other things that stay on your mind more than a bunch of bound cases. Hailo Warriors of Room 214!